


Fly to You

by biblionerd07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas and Sam find out about Dean, I have a lot of feelings, post-9x23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel goes to the Bunker to see Dean with his own eyes and to be with Sam after the events of 9x23.  But when he opens the door to Dean's room, he finds...nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly to You

**Author's Note:**

> I am SEVERELY bothered by Sam being alone after all this. Dragging Dean's body home alone, drinking alone, summoning Crowley--I hate it. I hate that Cas didn't go straight there. Therefore, here we are.

“I need you to do me a favor.” Castiel said softly. His eyes were dry, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to raise his voice much more than a whisper.

“Is this about Dean Winchester?” Hannah asked. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion and the sharp way she said Dean’s name made Castiel feel an actual ache in his chest. He must have flinched, because her face softened. “I am sorry.” She sounded genuine and somehow that made it worse. A shudder went through Castiel.

“I need—I need to go.” Castiel murmured. “I need to see. And I need to make sure Sam is…” He couldn’t say _okay_. There was no way Sam was okay. Sam needed Castiel. Truthfully, Castiel needed Sam. Castiel needed someone who felt the same hole in his chest that he felt.

Hannah looked at him for a minute longer before she nodded slowly. “I’ll take you.” She said. “But you’ll have to come back.” Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose, something he’d picked up from being human. It was a sign of irritation, a mark of impending headache. He wasn’t sure he could feel a headache, but the irritation certainly wasn’t lacking.

“I can’t…” He sighed. “I can’t think.” He admitted. “Take me. Please.” She didn’t say anything this time, just took him by the elbow and guided him through space and time. The moon was out, shining off the metal chains of the swings, and then she tapped his forehead and sent him to the Bunker.

Castiel rested his forehead against the door for a moment, gathering himself. He could feel Sam’s presence inside and refused to let himself search for Dean’s. Metatron could have lied. It had happened enough times before. Castiel felt like he should have been able to tell if the blood on the blade and Metatron’s hands was Dean’s. It should have looked different to him than any other blood. But it didn’t; the dark red that was starting to dry into rust had looked the same as anyone else’s blood, and Castiel wanted to shout because Dean’s blood should have been special, the way Dean was.

Castiel went inside. It took him approximately two seconds to find Sam. The ingredients for the summoning were all laid out, but Sam was slumped against the wall, a bottle beside him. He looked at Castiel with bloodshot eyes puffy from crying and Castiel suddenly felt his stomach drop, his own eyes starting to sting.

“It’s true?” He breathed. Sam began to cry again and Castiel slid to the floor beside him.

“I summoned Crowley.” Sam admitted hollowly. “I was ready to make a deal.”

“You changed your mind?” Castiel hoped. Sam laughed bitterly.

“He didn’t show.” Sam shook his head. “Son of a bitch pops in whenever he wants but doesn’t come when I need him.” Castiel tipped his head back to rest against the wall, looking at the ceiling. Sam laughed again, that horrible sound that made Castiel want to cover his ears because it was so unlike Sam’s actual laugh.

“I was so mad at Dean for letting Gadreel inside me. I told him I wouldn’t do the same—that I’d respect his choice to die. And then I was going to make a deal with Crowley. Dean would kill me if he knew I’d sold my soul for him.”

“Yes, he would.” Castiel murmured. “But Crowley didn’t come.”

“You can’t save him, can you?” Sam turned to look at Castiel, and he didn’t even sound accusatory, just extraordinarily exhausted. “You don’t have enough grace to bring him back.”

“I can’t.” Castiel admitted, and his voice broke. Sam nodded and they sat in silence. Castiel was gathering his courage as best he could. He’d never considered himself especially courageous, but this was important—possibly the most important moment of his entire existence.

“Is he…?” He paused and pursed his lips. “Can I…?”

“He’s in his room.” Sam answered the question Castiel couldn’t make himself ask. “He doesn’t look so bad.” Sam continued in a small voice. “I—I cleaned him up a bit. I didn’t want him to be covered in blood when he came back, after I got Crowley to bring him back. But…”

Castiel thought of Sam wiping the blood from Dean’s face and his heart clenched again. “I should have been here.” He whispered. Should have been there to protect Dean from Metatron. Should have been there to take care of Dean’s body. Should have been there to help Sam.

“You broke the angel tablet.” Sam pointed out. “Right?”

“I did.” It didn’t seem like a victory. If Castiel had kept its power for himself, he could have brought Dean back. He didn’t alert Sam to this fact. Another example of his cowardice.

“I need to see him.” Castiel forced himself to say. Sam nodded and made no move to stand. Castiel knew where Dean’s room was. He walked there on leaden legs, feeling like he was marching to an execution. He didn’t think he was ready for what he was going to see, but he wasn’t willing to drag it out. He’d never be ready for that.

Castiel stopped outside of Dean’s room, his breathing ragged. It was a wonder to him, sometimes, that sometimes his emotions forced him to breathe. It wasn’t necessary, but somehow feelings affected his airway. He pushed the door open and found…

Nothing.

The room was empty. There was a crust of dried blood on the pillow and a smudge of mud on the bedspread at the foot of the bed. Sulfur hung heavy in the air. Castiel felt his legs go weak and he had to sit down on the chair beside the bed. He’d wondered if this might happen. He’d so hoped it wouldn’t. He dropped his head into his hands, feeling sick to his stomach.

“What happened?” Sam boomed into the room, eyes growing hopeful as he sniffed. “Sulfur—Crowley must have been here!”

“Sam.” Castiel said quietly. His lips tightened, not wanting to say it out loud. He didn’t want to tell Sam. He didn’t want to confirm it out loud for himself.

“But I never even made the deal.” Sam quirked an eyebrow. “How does that work? Crowley brought him back out of the goodness of his own heart?” He snorted as he said it. “It doesn’t really matter.” He said, more to himself than Castiel. “If he wants my soul later, I’ll give it to him.”

“Sam.” Castiel repeated.

“But where did Crowley take him?” Sam wasn’t listening. He was babbling a little, excitement overtaking the natural apprehension he was burying. Castiel clenched his hands.

“ _Sam_.” He mustered up every last bit of power in his body to force out the word. Sam looked at him, and Castiel saw that Sam knew, really, that something was wrong. He was just hoping so hard it wasn’t.

“The Mark?” Sam asked. Castiel nodded. “It makes him immortal?”

“There were two demons here.” Castiel thought something was going to break apart inside of him when he said it. Sam just stared at him, grief and hope and worry clouding his understanding.

“Crowley brought someone with him?”

“No.” Castiel felt like he couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t make sense. He didn’t _need_ to breathe. Why was his body screaming for air? Why did his chest feel so tight?

“Cas…” Horror was starting to make Sam’s chest heave. A sob rent the air and Castiel realized it had come from himself. Tears started cutting a path down his face, hot beads sliding down his skin. This had never happened to him before, and it startled him. Tears had pricked at his eyes before—at times when he’d let Dean down, when he was standing in a ring of holy fire as Dean took one last backward glance at him, when Metatron had first crowed about Dean’s death—but none had ever spilled down his cheeks.

“Cas, no.” Sam begged. “Don’t tell me this.”

Castiel felt his shoulders hunch. He was still crying, but quietly now. Dean’s soul, so pure even after those forty long years, was now black. Sam threw up in the trashcan beside Dean’s bed. Castiel thought he should do something for Sam, but he couldn’t move. He never thought he’d see a day where he wished Dean was dead, but here it was. He wondered if Dean had left because Crowley had ordered and he had to obey, or if Dean had left because he hadn’t wanted Sam to see him as a demon.

“I can cure a demon.” Sam said, jaw tight. “We’ll summon Crowley. I’ll never stop summoning. He’ll have to come eventually, just to shut me up. We’ll—we’ll trap him. He’ll have to give us Dean.”

“And if Dean refuses?” Castiel asked, voice trembling. Sam shook with the idea and Castiel hated himself for voicing the thought.

“We’ll hold him here. Whether he wants it or not.” Sam’s voice had gone steely with determination. Castiel marveled at his resolve. Castiel himself felt nothing but exhaustion. But Sam had a plan. Castiel wasn’t sure it work, but Sam needed to believe it would. Castiel wanted to believe it, as well.

“Okay.” Castiel agreed, his hands balling into fists. “Let’s get to work.”


End file.
